“I guess you can too, though not in the way you mean. I don’t believe you know how to run away. Don’t you ever learn, either. But when it comes to running for something, that’s another story. I tell you, Dan, there’s nothing like it! When a half-dozen fellows are all bunched on the track and everyone is putting out every ounce of strength he’s got and the tape isn’t more than ten yards away and the fellows are all yelling like mad and you can feel that the sprinter from the High School or the Military Academy is right on your heels, even when you don’t, for the life of you, dare to look behind you――why, I’m telling you, Dan Richards, there are mighty few things in life to be compared with it! I think I’m a fairly good sprinter. I can do the hundred in ten-three. But I believe you can do better than that. You’re just built for a runner.” “Didn’t I tell you I could ‘run’?” asked Dan dryly. “That’s all right,” replied Ned lightly. “I know what you mean.” “Well, I’m glad you do,” said Dan soberly. “I’m not at all sure that I do.” “You just keep on sawing wood, that’s all you have to do.” “Or calling ‘co, boss,’” said Dan a little bitterly as he saw Gus Kiggins rise from his seat. “Don’t think of it. That pork chop isn’t worth wasting your time on! Just leave him alone.” “I’d like to, if he will leave me alone.” “He will,” said Ned positively. “We’ll attend to him.” Whether or not it was due to the “attentions” of Ned and his friends, Dan was as pleased as he was surprised, as the days of the winter term passed, to find that Gus Kiggins seemed to avoid him. He seldom came to the room of Dan and Walter; and as for Walter, although he still was much in Gus’s company, he did not often have much to say to his roommate. Much as Dan would have liked to enter into Walter’s life more fully, he was too proud to betray his chagrin at the change which had now apparently become fixed in their relations. The old friendly feeling was gone and in its place had come a relation which simply made Walter apparently tolerate the presence in his rooms of the boy for whose coming he had been chiefly responsible. The monotony of the routine of the winter term was broken in March by a visit from Mr. Borden. Dan, who had not been informed by Walter of the expected visit, was surprised one afternoon when he entered his room to find Mr. Borden seated there. His first thought was that Walter had sent for his father and a feeling of anger arose in Dan’s heart. Why had he himself not written before his roommate could complain? Perhaps Mr. Borden had come for the purpose of explaining that his promise was now void. The greeting which Walter’s father gave him was so quietly cordial that Dan was perplexed. He was not able entirely to conceal his embarrassment even when Mr. Borden bade him to be seated. “When did you come, Mr. Borden?” Dan inquired. “I arrived this morning,” replied the visitor quietly. “Have you seen Walter?”